


January is the coldest month.

by jessahmewren



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Brian, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Fucking, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 07:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20093311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessahmewren/pseuds/jessahmewren
Summary: Brian is grieving his father, but the boys are there to comfort him.





	January is the coldest month.

**Author's Note:**

> Where I play with the canon timeline and imagine that Brian May's dad died earlier in his life b/c fan fiction :). 
> 
> Springing from a one-word prompt at the Queen and BoRhap Writer's discord. You all inspire me every day! 
> 
> This is just some angst and porn, guys. I wrote it during a recent illness to help work through some feels and frustration. I hope you enjoy! <3

-0-0-0-

“Get up sleepyhead,” floated a voice down into the ether, and Brian frowned, a tear slipping out to be kissed away. Hands were on him now, gently soothing him awake, but if there was ever a day where he wished he could just sleep, it would be this one. 

Brian opened his eyes. He met soft brown ones, large and questioning. “What do you need darling?” 

A warm palm settled on his back. He closed his eyes against it, tears burning behind the lids. He wondered absently if he could use up all of them now and get it over with. Fingers began to stroke along his ribcage. Roger’s fingers. 

“John’s making tea,” Freddie said, his voice sweet and lilting.

The dear really was trying. Brian supposed he should too. 

He smiled. “I’ll join you then.”

They left him to dress and he did so automatically…legs into last-night’s trousers and arms into his discarded t-shirt. They had not made love, last night. It was something that he registered remotely, like one notices the weather. They had come home from the pub and tumbled into bed, all legs and bodies pressed together for warmth under the heavy blankets. It was late January. 

Then, Brian saw it. It hung on a hook on the back of the door, his costume of grief. Black with a matching tie; his mother had bought it for him. “A man needs a suit,” she had said, “if he’s going to bury his father.” 

Brian gave it a wide berth as he left the bedroom on the way to the kitchen. 

Roger was reading the paper, wearing the glasses he only wore at home. He had one leg crossed over the other and instantly tensed when Brian walked in.

John smiled, looking up from his toast and stood to pull his chair out. Brian sighed. 

“I’m not a bloody invalid, Deaks,” Brian muttered sharply, but plopped down heavily anyway. Freddie handed him his tea. Before he sipped it, he knew it would be cooled with one sugar just the way he liked it. 

Roger was still eyeing him over the dropped edge of the paper like he might bolt at any moment. He felt calloused fingers on the back of his hand, rubbing gently. 

“How did you sleep?” John asked. 

It was such a simple question, but his mind couldn’t make sense of it. How did he sleep? He slept. He remembered coming home from the pub, then waking. 

“I guess it was alright,” he said vacantly. His lips felt numb. He realized he hadn’t had a sip of tea, so he lifted it to his mouth. He looked down and toast had appeared in front of him. He supposed he should eat that too. 

Roger had put the paper down now; it was folded by his plate and his glasses were on top of it. He was studying Brian with sympathetic eyes. Then, his chair went back and he was walking over to Brian. 

He knelt in front of him, grabbing is face with both hands and turning it towards him. 

“You’re crying, love.” He dabbed at his face with a napkin, and sure enough Brian saw it come away wet. “It’s dripping into your plate.” 

Roger cleaned up his face and kissed him on the lips. It was a sweet, buttery kiss; Roger tasted of marmalade toast and tea. He released him, his warm eyes lingering on his. “It’s ok sweetheart; you’re just on autopilot today. But we’re going to be there to help you through this.” 

Freddie was at his side, sweeping a curl behind his ear. “That’s right darling, you won’t want for anything.” 

Deaky squeezed his hand. “Nothing.” 

Brian blinked away a few tears. Nothing except his dad. 

\--

The boys did not have suits, but they cleaned up quite nicely in dark trousers and coordinating tops and overcoats. They helped him dress, Freddie fiddling with the tie and fashioning it into a fancy knot. They prepared mostly in silence. Brian was already tired, and they had yet to take the long ride out for the funeral. 

They rode the Metro, then took a bus where Brian’s aunt picked them up to take them to the cemetery where the small graveside service would be held. They spilled out of the overstuffed car, feet crunching across the frozen grass to stand over the open ground like huddled birds. 

But Brian wasn’t cold. The boys anchored him on either side, feeding him body heat. 

A harsh wind rattled the bone-dry limbs of the trees overhead, shaking soft, wet snow down on the small assemblage gathered there. Brian finally shivered, and John and Freddie grabbed his hand tightly while Roger hovered near his back. He couldn’t stopped thinking of the trees as they lowered his father into the ground. Tender buds would come in May, flourish in summer, be shaken in fall, and drop off in winter to start the cycle all over again. 

Life was a cycle, he thought as he watched the casket be covered with dirt. The boys had to pull him away from the tomb. His legs just wouldn’t move. 

\--

It was dark before they made it back to the flat, the door slamming behind them and making them all jump from the nerves and the coiled tension of the day. 

Brian began peeling off his suit, listlessly making his way to the bed. 

Obediently, they followed him.

He curled onto his side, burrowing deep beneath the covers. It was cold in the flat, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind it occurred to Brian that the furnace must’ve gone out again. He swore, and the bed dipped, and he felt his body slide into another. 

“You’ve still got your clothes on,” he murmured stuffily. From smell alone, he could tell it was Freddie. 

“And you’re crying again, darling,” came a sympathetic voice. “Did you even know?” Smooth hands soothed his cheeks, wiping the tears away. Making room for more.

Roger was stripping, shivering as he did so, his pale, beautiful skin luminescent in the moonlight. “Fucking furnace,” he muttered softly before he pressed into Brian’s slight form. The three of them crowded Brian with their thin arms and body heat and warm breath ghosting over his face. He breathed it in. 

“Make love to me,” Brian whispered. Tears ran in a steady track down his cheeks, and Roger made futile attempts to thumb them away. Someone sighed.

John’s hand crossed Roger to trail over Brian’s hip. “How Bri,” he said softly. He sounded on the verge of tears himself, or perhaps just tired or thoughtful, Brian couldn’t be sure. 

“Anyway you want to,” Brian sighed. “Just make me forget.”

Freddie turned in his arms, his hand flat against his chest. “Who do you want, darling?” 

Brian just blinked. “All of you,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I want all of you.”

Freddie reached up to stroke his face. “I think we can manage that. Even under all these blankets. Boys?”

Roger stretched and placed a kiss on Brian’s cheek. “We’re going to take care of you Brian. You won’t have to worry about anything. Deaky?”

John moved over Roger and pushed back a curl from Brian’s forehead. “I’m so sorry about today, Bri,” he whispered. “But we love you. And we’re going to give you what you need.” 

Brian bit his lip, another tear slipping out from under his lashes. John caught it with his tongue before it could make its way down his cheek. 

“Lie back love,” he murmured. “Gonna make sure you’re nice and relaxed.” 

Freddie played in Brian’s hair while John prepared his hands. When John touched him, Brian visibly relaxed, almost melting into his fingers. 

“There you go,” John soothed, as he tested a finger against him. When Brian only hummed, he slipped two in at once. 

Brian arched against the fingers, Roger playfully pushing him down as he rubbed soothing circles over his belly.

John scissored his fingers, working them against Brian’s walls and brushing them over his sweetspot, causing him to gasp and squirm. Freddie softly stroked his hair, whispering encouraging words as he took a third finger. 

A low moan stole his throat, leaving him pliant and panting. John hooked the fingers against his prostate while Roger stroked him, making him jerk and cry out. Finally, John was satisfied.

“You did so well for me, Bri,” he said as he caressed his thigh, “you were so good for me.” 

Brian moaned a little as Roger kissed him, sleepy and slow. John slipped a pillow under his hips as Roger released him. 

“Rog, take care of our Bri, would you? Freddie, stuff his mouth.” 

Freddie smirked, straddling Brian’s where he lay propped on the pillows, his hair curled around his face. He sank down into the warm wet heat of Brian’s eager mouth, fucking into him gently. “God, Brian you’re a dream.” 

Brian just moaned, holding on to Freddie’s thighs as John entered him in two quick thrusts. He could hear John’s low growl, could feel the pinch of his fingers on his hips and the slight sting of him seated inside of him, followed by the warm pleasure of being filled. 

And then lips, tongue. A tongue on his cock.

Tears were streaming down his face now, his mind and body flooded with pleasure, synapses overloaded with stimuli…being filled, being touched…limbs and nerve endings struggling to connect sensations with responses, his muscles twitching in random unchoreagraphed responses, trying to get up to speed with the messages they were receiving. If he could’ve spoken around Freddie’s cock, broken sentences would’ve tumbled forth; instead, words like _Good _and _Yes _and _Now _and _Please _floated across his consciousness. But he didn’t need words. They were giving him everything he needed. 

John was moving deliberately, withdrawing fully each time before hilting himself again. The slow pace was such delicious torture, and the more he teased him the more aware Brian became of his body again and of how much he _wanted_. He hummed around Freddie’s cock, sucking on the gentle thrusts. 

Freddie gasped. “You look so beautiful like this Bri, all spread out and taken care.” 

Brian closed his eyes, moaning as Roger took him all the way down. He was so close. If only John would—

“Tell us what you need, sweetheart.” John’s husky voice cut through the haze of Brian’s thoughts, warm and welcome.

Freddie pulled out of him, his eyes on fire. 

“More,” Brian rasped. “Harder. Please, just fuck me.” 

Roger smiled up at him where he still hovered over his cock. He gave him a long stroke that sent him arching off the mattress. 

“Rog, you and Freddie take care of each other, and let me take of Bri,” John said before turning his attention to Brian. His eyes lit. “Flip over, sweetheart. Want to fuck you proper.”

Brian scrambled to get on all fours, his heart slamming in his chest. He could hear Roger and Freddie giggling beside him, limbs a slow blur of motion in the dark. 

John entered him in one smooth thrust, his hands tight on his hips. Brian moaned into the pillow, gripping the sheets. John smoothed a hand down his back as he thrust roughly into him, angling his hips so he would brush Brian’s prostate, and Brian cried out. “Love you so much sweetheart. We all do.” 

“I know,” Brian whispered. 

He could feel the beginnings of his orgasm in his belly, could feel it building in his lower back. John began stroking him and the flames of that fire began to lick their way through his blood, teasing the skin from his bones until he was coming in John’s hand, over the bed, and then John right after. 

Freddie and Roger crawled over to lay beside them, and Roger softly stroked Brian’s hair. 

“How do you feel, love?”

Brian closed his eyes, feeling his lovers breathing all around him. He burrowed further into their heat and smiled. “Like tomorrow might be a better day.”

-0-0-0-

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter/Tumblr is jessahmewren. Stop by and say hello!


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